


Hot Ink (Beneath the Facade Remix)

by Neverever



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fantasizing, Remix, Tattoos, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 23:50:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neverever/pseuds/Neverever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maria Hill knows everything there is to know about Steve Rogers. Then she gets pulled into reviewing the operation specs for Rogers’s next mission and discovers a surprising side to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Ink (Beneath the Facade Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tielan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Hot Ink](https://archiveofourown.org/works/828480) by [tielan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan). 



> Thank you to Tielan for being generous in offering fics to be remixed as part of the Avengers Remix (Round Two). 
> 
> And thanks as ever to my beta.

Disgusted by the instant messages she received, Maria pushed away from her desk. She was dead certain that ogling Steve Rogers was not in any SHIELD agent’s job description. As she headed to the medical section to break up the crowd of spectators, she wondered why it was on her to clear up the situation instead of the supervising agents on site.

On her way to the elevator, she thought about Rogers. As a whole, she could take or leave the Avengers. They were undisciplined vigilantes, and when they got involved, minor crises escalated to full-fledged disasters. She didn’t see what they did that well-trained SHIELD agents couldn’t. She had worked with Barton and Romanoff since she joined SHIELD, so she trusted them to a degree. Banner and Thor were downright menaces, uncontrollable quantities with unknown motives. And she had absolutely no use for Stark. He had bad news written all over him. As for Rogers, she tolerated him.

Oh, she recognized the importance of his contributions to the foundation of SHIELD and his living legend status. But in the flesh he did not seem any different from the other cleancut, highly trained, Mother-God-Country (in whatever order) special ops guys she’d known. He was another All-American boy next door, one of the unfailingly polite, dedicated, smart, hard-working, rules-following sort that made excellent field operatives and agents. With Captain Steve Rogers, what you saw was what you got.

Admittedly, she was intrigued by the way that Rogers somehow always knew she was in the room. And that one time he was glad when she joined him for lunch. She chalked it up to him being a friendly guy, no more. Yet, his smile stuck with her, its warmth and how it lit up his face.

And she would have to be dead not to notice how gorgeous Rogers was. Particularly when he smiled. But on the whole, she strongly preferred not thinking about it. He was just another pretty face. A commonplace soldier and operative who did held no interest for her other than what he could do on a mission.

By the time she reached the medical section located ten floors from her office, she had decided to mandate a series of sexual harassment seminars for base staff. The seminars would include a special section on working with one Captain Steve Rogers. When she saw agents and base staff milling about, trying to appear like they had reasons to be there, Maria decided a series of strongly worded memos to supervisors about managing their staff was in order as well.

At last the crowd began to disperse as the agents and staff noticed Maria striding towards them. She shook her head at the fleeing staff and went to locate someone in charge. “What’s going on here?” she asked firmly.

The doctor told her, “They’re prepping Captain Rogers for an upcoming mission,” indicating the lab space behind the floor-to-ceiling windows where a shirtless Rogers was surrounded by three lab techs carefully applying fake Russian gangster-style tattoos. Natasha Romanoff was seated off to the side, joking cheerfully with him. 

Maria rolled her eyes. “Dr. Singh. I highly suggest that you use blinds while the lab techs are working on Captain Rogers over the next two days. I don’t want to be summoned down here again.” The doctor nodded her acknowledgment of the warning.

As Maria went to leave, Rogers smiled and nodded at her. Then guided by a lab tech, he turned around, presenting his back to her. He slid his pants down his hips for the tech to measure where the next application needed to go. Maria contemplated how long Rogers’ pants would cling to his firm ass before they lost their fight with gravity. She decided not to wait to find out. Although, she acknowledged ruefully, her people had very good taste in what they decided to ogle.

Late, late that night, she tried to put all the questions and stresses of the day behind her while searching for something to watch with her microwaved dinner. The memory of Rogers in the medical lab sprang suddenly into her tired mind. She could see him standing there as the lab tech laid down an Orthodox cross on his back, the solid black of the tattoo highlighting Rogers’ strongly muscled back. Maria snorted and focused her attention back on whatever was on the television.

_She sees him in the club, standing apart from the crowd, attracting the attention of the women and some of the men. But his eyes are only on her. Up close she can see the hints of the tattoos under his shirt. She takes his arm and teasingly, lingeringly unbuttons his cuff and rolls his sleeve up his arm to see the complicated designs inked on his skin. He leans closer and breathes his name into her skin, what he wants to do with her …._

Maria woke up with a start. She scrubbed her hand over her face and tried to block out whatever she was thinking.

The next day, Sitwell was determined to drag Maria into briefings for the Russian tech-smuggling operation that Rogers and Romanoff were prepping. Maria thought that the mission had too many problems and rated its chances for success much lower than Sitwell did. Fury asked her to humor him since this was Sitwell’s baby, and if it went well, they would be able to take out some wanted targets. It remained unspoken between her and Fury that Maria would fix the problems in the mission ops or pull the plug if the mission was untenable.

Reading the mission brief, Maria made numerous notes about necessary fixes for the operation. Prepared and ready to make the necessary operational changes, Maria returned to the medical section to discuss the upcoming mission with Sitwell, Rogers and Romanoff. Maria noticed with satisfaction that blinds had been installed. 

The techs had spent the last hour continuing Rogers’ transformation into Stefan Rostov. Sitwell and Romanoff were inspecting the temporary tattoos covering Rogers’ entire torso. Maria wasn’t sure where it was safe to look because a majority of Rogers’ assets were on display. The applications were beautiful and precise, but, somehow, something felt off to her.

_He pushes her into a badly lit hallway, their hands all tangled up in each other, kissing and tasting. It is easy to shove him against the wall plastered with posters and flyers, to mouth the base of his neck, tasting salt and sweat. Her hand skates over his tight leather pants and caresses his firm ass. Another hand unbuttons his shirt, revealing the canvas of his skin, beautiful vibrant art all over. Her finger traces inked names, brushes across a flag, skims a mermaid’s tail. He kisses her forehead, whispers dirty things into her ear; his lips barely touch her but his breath is moist and heated on her skin …._

Clearing her throat, Maria set her tablet down and crossed her arms on the table. As she glanced over at Rogers, she caught a meaningful look between him and Romanoff. Rogers was not usually hard to read, but Maria didn’t understand the reason for the look.

Sitwell continued reviewing the mission objectives. He had prepared backgrounds, identity papers, clothing and travel itineraries for Rogers and Romanoff. A couple of SHIELD agents in cooperation with other agencies were paving the way for the operation by getting them the right introductions to the right people. Sitwell was overly proud of the work his people had put into the preparation.

Before Maria could say anything, Romanoff interrupted. All politics and smoothness, she smiled at Sitwell, daggers lurking in her eyes. “Jasper, where did your guys get these tattoo designs?”

Sitwell paused a minute. “What? They did their research.”

Romanoff looked over the tattoos and started to point out a few of the designs. “It’s not authentic looking enough. He needs to read as ‘Russian gangster,’ a product of vicious prisons, and not a gym rat from Venice Beach. These look too American and too new.” She flicked at the vibrant letters across his chest.

_He pulls her closer, traces the low neckline of her tank, and fondles her breast. She loves the thrill that shoots down her spine. But this isn’t about what he can do for her, it’s about what she does to him. She grabs his hip and digs her thumb into an American flag shield just under his waistband. She kisses his lips and down the column of his neck. He smells of smoke and grime and she can’t get enough of the taste of his skin, the darkness of his eyes, and the feel of his muscles under her hands …._

Maria watched the lab techs exchange worried looks. Romanoff knew what she was talking about, so no one could dismiss what she said out of hand. “And we’ve talked about this before – Steve still looks too cut. He needs to look like he’s been out enforcing or smuggling weapons, not hanging out in the gym all day.”

One of the lab techs frowned and started flipping through his notebook. “Hold on a second, Natasha. We can’t help that he kind of always looks that way.”

Another lab tech chimed in, “We talked about maybe using makeup or other applications to mask the muscle definition.” Maria glimpsed what might have been embarrassment flick over Rogers’ impassive face. 

_She cups him through the leather pants and leeringly smiles up at him, as her hand wrings a low, breathy gasp from him. She’s going to make him scream, going to make him understand why she is special and perfect. She drags her fingernails down his side, then caresses the green fire-breathing dragon tattoo on the other side. She kisses and licks his chest and abs, following the sinuous line of the dragon all the way down to where the tail ends, just above the pants riding low on his hips. She revels in the harsh sound of his breath, the sharpness of his hipbones, the tang of sweat on his skin …._

Maria snapped back to the conversation as an exasperated Sitwell interrupted the lab tech. “The mission specs do not require Steve to be shirtless.”

“He could be wearing fifteen layers of clothing, and that won’t hide the fact that he looks like he’s the son of Irish immigrants, and not from the Ukraine or even Brighton Beach,” Romanoff countered. 

“We can dye his hair,” Sitwell smugly replied.

“Steve, how fast does your hair grow out?” Romanoff asked.

“Let’s get back to the issue of what needs to be fixed with the tattoo applications,” Maria stated.

Rogers had been suspiciously quiet so far. Then he said, to devastating effect, “It would be better if I were with the special ops team assigned for coverage. I’m not trained as a spy, and if I can’t carry off being a gangster in a lab setting, how can it work in the field?”

Sitwell’s face held a brittle smile as he pulled out the mission brief. Romanoff was unreadable and Rogers crossed his arms and leaned against a table. Even his closed-off stance could not hide the glorious technicolor definition of his torso.

_She is going to take him apart, piece by piece, and leave him a ruin in this dingy hallway. She slides onto her knees, teasing him by running her thumb over his zipper. She undoes the zipper and smiles at the catch in his breath. Tugging the supple leather down his hips and over the firm swell of his ass, she draws him out. His head thuds hard against the wall when she tongues him from root to tip. She makes him come undone …._

Forcibly shaking the images out of her head, she returned to hear Sitwell blustering on, and right then decided to let him hang himself on his poor mission planning. Romanoff and Rogers had made their objections clear. Although Maria understood their criticisms, she also saw considerable other problems. She hoped enough damage had been done today. But right now, she was finding a nearly naked Rogers far too distracting to stick around the lab much longer. She told Sitwell, Rogers and Romanoff to keep working and report back to her if they had anything new. She ignored Rogers’ sharp blue eyes following her out the lab. 

A few days later, Maria found out that the Russian smuggling mission was officially cancelled when a dejected Sitwell slumped into her office and informed her. But Maria had already known, since Romanoff had tipped her off with a suggested revised mission operations plan. SHIELD would later take up the operation, but in a different direction with different agents and handlers. Maria would never learn the whole story of exactly how the whole thing collapsed. But she had her suspicions about the players.

After her debrief with Fury, Maria swung by the cafeteria to grab something for an early lunch. She passed by Rogers sitting with his tablet in front of a large spread of food. She had no idea how he could possibly eat that much. She acknowledged him, “Captain.”

“Agent Hill,” he said in return. “You can call me Steve,” he suggested hopefully.

If she called him Steve, that meant he could call her Maria, and that felt too … familiar. At least for now.

“Why don’t you join me?” Rogers asked. 

Thinking over her schedule, Maria decided she could spare a few minutes. After all, the view here was much better than in her office. “Sitwell tells me the mission’s been scrubbed.” She felt a sudden rush of blood when she glimpsed the edges of the tattoos poking out from the open vee of his collar.

“I don’t know much about that,” he said. 

She watched him bite into his sandwich and didn’t want to admit that she might have stared as he licked melted cheese off his fingers. 

He continued, “But I do know that the fake tattoos didn’t work the way the lab boys hoped.”

“Really?” Maria immediately found herself wanting to defend the lab techs. Rogers didn’t know everything.

Rogers pushed up his shirt sleeve. The tattoos applied three days ago were already peeling and lifting away from his skin. The lab techs had promised that the applications were waterproof and sweatproof and would last for at least a month. 

“That _is_ surprising,” Maria admitted. 

Rogers shrugged. “Super soldier skin. They didn’t take that into account.”

“Good thing that we scrubbed the mission then,” stated Maria blandly. She noticed a small smile playing on Rogers’ lips. 

“I suppose it’s for the best. As you said, there were problems with the underlying objectives.”

 _Had_ she said anything to Rogers about her issues with the mission objectives? He didn’t have access to that information. Suddenly Maria remembered a rumor from the other day that Rogers had spent over five hours in the gym agility training after that mess of a mission briefing. She imagined the stress and pull on his skin from five hours of rigorous exercise and what it could have done to the tattoos. Without the covering guise of the tattoos, Rogers couldn’t go on the mission. And the mission had supposedly been designed around Rogers’ skillset. Could he have intentionally ….?

She looked over at him, eating his lunch, cool as a cucumber. But his eyes conveyed a slightly different emotion than she expected. If it were anyone other than Rogers, she would call it deviousness. A cold chill washed over Maria. She disliked being in the position of misreading or, even worse, underestimating someone. She quickly finished up her wrap and soda. She’d spent far too much time already away from her work. 

As she got up to leave, Rogers smiled at her and said, “Maybe we could meet for lunch again sometime.”

“We could do that,” Maria replied noncommittally, despite the traitorous, warm curl in her stomach. She had no intention of ever letting Rogers know what he could do to her. Ever. He was simply not to be trusted.

From now on, Maria would have to watch Rogers carefully, since he was capable of unnerving her with nothing more than a warm smile. Rogers was more than his whitebread facade. He did not need tattoos, or leather pants, or any other accessory to be dangerous. He was dangerous just being Steve Rogers.


End file.
